


Falling in Love

by TheWaitingFangirl



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Basically me gushing over Arno because he's a sweetheart, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Oh god I hate myself what am I doing with my life, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:06:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWaitingFangirl/pseuds/TheWaitingFangirl
Summary: Sharing an intimate moment with Arno after a round of lovemaking, you both bare your feelings for each other, honest and loving as he takes care of you.





	Falling in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who’s back after almost a whole week without internet and not writing the requests because had a sudden inspiration for Arno???? Me!!!!! 
> 
> I was writing this prompt for an old friend, but a few things happened and… well, I decided to take the idea and use it for the blog because I’m not going to let go of a good prompt go because someone was an ass. Anyways, this is just some heavy fluff.
> 
> Also, I may or may not have been using my french classes to enhance my Arno writing. Who knows. And yes, my teacher helped me grammar check those and even asked if I'm planning or charming someone in french. God, I'm such a shame.

You sighed in contentment, trying to fight off the ever-growing fatigue that insisted on taking its hold upon you. Arno’s bed was softer than what you expected it to be — which was a surprise, honestly. You never thought that Arno, of all people, would have such a soft and good smelling bed; a bed that was so warm and comfortable that made it even harder to not drift off into a dreamless sleep… that and, considering the exertion from earlier, it was even more unexpected for you to still be up. You heard the sound of water splashing on the brass bathtub, the low humming and the smell of bathing oils — the soothing ritual of a bath being prepared.

Ignoring the sounds, you nuzzled your face into the silken sheets, sighing deeply and making a low almost-purring-like sound at the back of your throat. You could never _ever_ have enough of his smell — the smell of powder, writing ink and papers. Smiling, you toyed with the idea that he smelled like the Revolution itself, like the danger you sensed when looking at _La Cour des Miracles_ , like the plotting and hushed whispers themselves. Arno was mysterious and open, like a prohibited book begging to be taken and read but never returned.

Well, you never denied the fact that you’ve always been the curious kind.

[[MORE]]

“ _Mon ange_ …” you heard the soft voice of Arno coming from the edge of the bed, but you were too tired to turn around and look at him. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

You moaned, pouting slightly. “Not moving…”

“ _Pas problème_ ” he smiled and you felt the soft touch of his fingertips caressing your calf, hands sliding up and following the curve of your leg and thigh until they rested comfortably against your hip. “Do you want me to carry you?”

You giggled, eyes still closed as you felt him squeeze your hip ever so slightly to get your attention “But can you, dear Arno?” you mused, tongue heavy in your mouth with sleepiness, “I thought you were, and I quote, ‘unbelievably tired’”.

Arno hummed in humor, his voice smooth and husky as he spoke to you “I wasn’t lying, _ma chérie_ …” His hands delicately gathered the mess of curls that was your hair, touch gentle and careful as he draped them over your shoulder, “but I’m capable of much more to please you.”

“Careful, _mon chér_ ” you mumbled, humored by his words, “or I might just fall in love with you.”

You heard Arno chuckling, his hand taking a hold of you as his arm slipped beneath the bend of legs and scooted you up, holding you securely against his clothed chest. “Then I suppose I should try a bit harder”, he whispered, expression sweet and open when you looked at him; and you could tell he saw you blush at his words when his smile widened.

“Ever the romantic, aren’t you?” you teased as he carried you effortlessly from his bed towards the bathtub and you took advantage of the moment to nestle your head comfortably against his neck, able to breathe in a bit more of Arno. You never wanted to let this go.

“For you, _ma belle_ , anything.” He offered simply, bending down in order to let you sink into the water and you hissed, more in discomfort than pain itself. “ _Pardon_ … does it hurt too much?”

You closed your eyes, smiling softly as you felt Arno’s hand putting a soft towel behind your head. “No… just a bit sore, that’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” he caressed your head, “I just… I want you to tell me if I’ve hurt you” Arno insisted, voice quiet and sweet as he started untangling your hair and pulling it up into a bun. “I’d hate myself at the thought of hurting you, even if accidentally.”

You kept your eyes closed, listening as he moved about the small and improvised bathroom. “I know, I know…” you soothed, the warmth of the water making you even more sleepy, “but I trust you… you should trust me as well when I say I’m okay, hm?”

Arno sighed beside you and you opened your eyes, taking his softly candlelit figure in as he sat on the wooden chair beside the bathtub with a washcloth in hand. “Yes… I just worry about you, that’s all.” He said with a warm smile, eyes soft and affectionate as he took hold of your right hand with his free one and proceeded to bath you.

The room became filled with a comfortable silence and the splashing sound of water against the brass of the tub. As Arno went on with the task of cleaning you, you took your time to examine him, face usually screwed with annoyance, now relaxed and soft, eyes warm and gaze not at all sexual, but affectionate and loveable, as if he was worshipping you — and, in a certain way, he was. The firewood crackled somewhere in the background, adding to the intimate bubble he had summoned and now maintained for both of you. Arno ran the washcloth to your neck, dipping it into the water and squeezing it again before continuing.

His touch was soothing, you mused. Leaning forward with a soft groan, you granted him access to your back. You still were too tender from earlier, your core hurting sweetly with satisfaction and Arno squeezed your arm apologetically. Smiling, you turned to look at him again.

It really was something, you wondered in your post-coital-and-sleep-filled haze. This quietness, this peace… The intimate little moments you both had, the luxury that it was to spend them together when the Brotherhood wasn’t claiming either of you — sometimes even both.

You were so lost in your mind that you almost missed when Arno gave you a sheepish gaze and smiled, cheeks slowly assuming a pinkish shade. “You embarrass me when you look at me like this, _ma chérie_ ”, he muttered, eyes shifting about your body as if searching for something to focus his gaze onto as his hands stopped their loveable touching on you. “I’m anything but used to this kind of… attention.”

You smiled comprehensively at him, even if you were rather surprised in a not so pleasant way at his confiding. Sighing, you took his palm into yours, kissing the knuckles of his hand and pressing your forehead against it, you nuzzled into his touch. “ _Pardon moi_ , Arno.” You muttered quietly, as if sharing a secret. “I simply enjoy the sight of you so close to me. I enjoy the sensation of your touch and long for it when we are close.”

Arno smiled, huffing in embarrassment at your words. “It seems I am not the only one making it difficult not to fall in love with.” He leaned into you, palm curling at the junction between your shoulder and neck as he pressed a warm and loving kiss against your temple.

“Really?” you feigned a gasp. “Should I try harder, then?”

“ _Ma petite fateur de trouble_ ”, he chuckled against you, the vibrations of his rich voice raising little goosebumps on your skin. “ _Je t’aime, tu sais? Profondément_ ”

Humming in approval, you took your wet hand and placed it over his shoulder, mimicking the hold he had upon you and turned your head, peppering light and loving kisses across his jaw until the corner of his mouth. “I know”, you whispered, pressing your nose against his cheek and Arno turned his face to kiss you chastely on the lips; a warm and gentle press of soft skin against skin. Breathing deeply, he didn’t stop, pressing his kisses then against the corner of your mouth, your cheek and closed eyelids. “ _Je t’aime aussi, Arno. Beaucoup. Plus que vous ne purriez penser._ ”

Arno pressed the tip of his nose against your brow, following the line of it. “Is this how you plan on making me fall in love with you?” he hummed, voice quiet and humorous as you gave him a small giggle.

“That depends…” you started nonchalantly, a sly smirk playing on your lips and even though he couldn’t see, you were sure he felt it with your closeness “is it working?”

“Most definitely yes, _mon chérie_ ”

“Then yes” you gave in, hand turning his face for a better angle as you kissed him sweetly on the lips. Arno sighed, making you melt into him as he tried to deepen the kiss, touch growing urgent as he tried to get closer to you. Moaning, you granted him access, hand tangling in his silken hair with reckless abandon; as if you hadn’t just had a pleasant evening together. The water splashed in the tub at your sudden moves, now growing cold in the middle of the Parisian night.

With a chuckle and a final nip on his bottom lip, you pushed him away playfully. “As much as I’d love idly sit in here and catch a cold together, I’d very much prefer to lie in bed with you, _mon chér_. It seems… warmer there, I’d say.”

Arno’s eyes widened for a second and his gaze went towards the water, as if noticing now where the both of you were. “I’ll find you a warm towel, _pardon_ …” he apologized with a small bow of his head, getting on his feet and walking towards the fireplace to retrieve a fluffy towel that had been warming next to the fire on a metallic support.

“No one ever told you how dangerous it is to leave fabric close by the fire, dear Arno?” you nagged playfully at him when he wrapped the towel protectively around you, the fabric pleasantly warm and gentler on the skin than the ones you grew used to.

Arno hummed, “I’ve been told it’s dangerous to leave it next to the fire _and_ unattended” he said rather childishly and you leaned into him when stepping out of the tub. “I was looking at it the whole time.”

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking up at him, “you remind of _un enfant_ sometimes…” you whispered against his chest, not entirely sure if saying it to him or to yourself.

“They say the best souls never grow old” he offered, rubbing your back with his hands as he rested his chin on your head. You could feel yourself growing spoiled with time beside him.

“But they also say the older, the wiser” you retorted.

“ _Oui_ , but you know me” Arno shrugged, voice tinted with humor at its edges, “I’ve never been referred to as the smartest.”

With a frown, you looked up at him. He was unbelievable sometimes. “You may be careless sometimes, but that does not make you stupid. And you know that, Arno.”

His eyes, light brown and chocolaty, gazed into yours lovingly. “I never said I was stupid. I only said I’m not the smartest” he started, pressing a kiss to your forehead and, before you could speak again, he continued, “we both know you’re the brainy one here.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- Mon ange - my angel
> 
> \- Mon chér/ma chérie - my dear
> 
> \- Pardon moi - I’m sorry, forgive me
> 
> \- Ma petite fateur de trouble - My little troublemaker
> 
> \- Enfant - a child
> 
> \- Je t’aime, tu sais? Profondément - I love you, you know? Deeply
> 
> \- Je t’aime aussi, Arno. Beaucoup. Plus que vous ne purriez penser - I love you too, Arno. A lot. More than you could possibly imagine


End file.
